Ez Ozel: Prologue to Perdition Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Appendix

  Ez Ozel

  Prologue to Perdition

  by Dave Oliver

  Ez Ozel: Prologue to Perdition by Dave Oliver

  Published by Twelve Peers Publishing

  © 2017 Dave Oliver

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact:

  [email protected]

  Cover by Jamie Noble

  CHAPTER ONE

  King Talis stared at the wide-open gates of the enemy kingdom he’d come to war with, and he shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. This was a trap if he’d ever seen one. He pulled at his heavy, ornate breastplate to let some air in. The breeze caught his sweat-soaked underclothes and a refreshing chill swept along his skin. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the brief respite from the oppressive summer heat.

  He hadn’t journeyed west across the sea to Peona since he was a boy, but it was just how he remembered it. The open plains along the coast with the thick forest of trees to the west. Even the Holy City looked the same, if not a little smaller than he remembered. But he was bigger now, so that made sense. He glanced back at his restless army. Their purple and silver armor glistened in the sun, and their faces were slick with sweat. They couldn’t sit out here forever or they’d bake alive. They needed to do something soon.

  “Scout returning, sir,” a voice called from behind him.

  He let his armor fall back into place. The scout was riding up from the south—from the direction of the Holy City’s gaping entrance. Talis leaned forward on the saddle horn. The western scouts had reported in a few times and so had his coastal scouts, but this would be the first person to let him know just what in the good fuck was going on inside this city of crazy, hostile zealots.

  First General Gebrin wiped the sheen of sweat from his round face and thick mustache. He kicked at his horse to go greet the scout, but Talis stopped him with a wave of his hand. “Hold on. I want to hear this directly.”

  Gebrin nodded and brought his horse back next to the king. The animal was probably relieved it didn’t have to move Gebrin’s impressive bulk very far. The general waved the scout over. She gently nudged her horse closer to them, clearly nervous to approach the king. Her armor was still clean, the great eagle of Ildia shining on her breastplate. She didn’t look like she’d seen any combat inside.

  “What’s your name?” Talis asked.

  “Fretik, sir.” Her posture visibly relaxed after she heard his casual, warm tone.

  “Please tell us everything you saw in there, Fretik. Leave nothing out.”

  “Well…” She glanced over her shoulder for a moment. “It’s really weird in there, sir.”

  “How so?”

  “There weren’t any people when we entered. Just buildings and these huge crystals everywhere.”

  Talis raised an eyebrow. “What kind of crystals?”

  “They were pale white, and you couldn’t really see through them, but they were cold. They jutted out of the ground, buildings, the main fountain…everywhere. Most were two or three times as big as a person.”

  “They were cold?”

  She nodded. “Touched one of ‘em myself. Had a cool, refreshing feel.”

  “Can I see the hand you touched it with?”

  She unlatched the gauntlet from her right hand and pulled off the armor and undercloth. She then urged her horse closer to Talis and Gebrin and held out her hand for them to inspect.

  Talis grabbed it and turned it over, taking a long, careful gaze at it. Nothing looked odd about it.

  Fretik took her shaking hand back. Talis knew touching royalty was probably making her frayed nerves go haywire, but he never felt he should be anything quite so revered. He was just a man doing his job like anyone else here on the field. He’d never felt his distinction should get in the way of relating to his people, especially his soldiers.

  “Sir,” Gebrin said. “If the place is empty, we should occupy it.”

  “There’s more, sir.” Fretik finished clasping her gauntlet back on before continuing. “We found their army. Well, we found all of the city’s people, really.”

  “And you made it back alive?”

  She took a deep breath. “So that’s the weirdest part. They’re all on ships, but they weren’t preparing to set sail or anything. They were just packed shoulder-to-shoulder on their vessels.”

  “On ships?” Gebrin asked. “Sir, we need to move now. They could be flanking us, or sailing to attack Ildia, or fleeing to Provenance, or—”

  Talis lifted his hand, cutting him off. “What do you mean they aren’t setting sail?”

  “The ships are still tied up. Nobody is working the docks or getting them ready to ship out. No one is really moving at all. They’re all just standing on the decks.”

  “Did they see you?”

  “Yup. Just stared at us. No movement, no expression, no reaction at all.” She glanced back at the gates one last time. “They were colored weird too, sir.”

  Talis wiped the sweat from his forehead. “What do you mean?”

  “They were all pure white. I don’t mean fair skinned or painted. I mean they just didn’t have any color at all.”

  Talis glanced over at Gebrin, who projected a calm facade, but his eyes gave away just how terrified he was.

  “What happened next?”

  “I left to report back. We thought this was important enough to bring to your attention immediately.”

  “You were right.” He patted her on the shoulder a few times. “Great work in there. Fall in line for now.”

  She bowed and urged her horse into the main army line.

  Talis shifted in his saddle and pulled at his breastplate again.

  Gebrin gave him a stern look. “You know what that sounds like…”

  Talis grinned. “I never took you for a believer in the Grand Propter.”

  “My granddad believed that book was a real account, but I’ve never been convinced. Maybe those people in there are just dressing up like the Zahl in those stories to spook us.”

  Talis took a deep breath. “That’s possible. More likely than there being some otherworldly army waiting in there for us.”

  “What do you want to do?” Gebrin asked.

  Talis let a long moment pass, allowing the cool breeze to stir his thoughts about the events that had led him here. His parents had always handled the Holy City so deftly. How had he managed to sour relations this badly? Nobody had ever mentioned war, yet here he was ready to sack Ildia’s former sister city. He shook his head and wished he could go back in time and avoid what had to happen next.

  “Sir?”

  He took a deep breath. “We should enter. We’ll send i
n the elites first to make sure it’s not a trap, and we’ll have them ready to pull back as soon as they see anything suggesting as much.”

  “Perfect.” A satisfied grin overtook Gebrin’s face. He turned his horse and rode over to the line, relaying the command to the officers. He was perhaps a little too eager to make a battle out of things, but that trait also made him exceptional at his position.

  Talis leaned forward and stroked his horse’s neck. He didn’t relish the thought of the fight to come. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any traps or surprises, and he could simply address the enemy on their ships. There was still time to make peace here. The Holy City could still go back to its old name, Aggria. The sister cities Ildia and Aggria could still become as close as they had been a thousand years ago. He smiled at the idea of peace between the two kingdoms again. That feat might even get him a statue of his own in the city, maybe even bigger than King Faldor’s in the central market.

  His horse suddenly winced and started moving erratically, whinnying and braying loudly. She nearly tossed Talis from the saddle. Then, just as abruptly, she stopped. She stood perfectly still and didn’t respond to any of his commands. Even kicking her did nothing.

  The king looked up and noticed a great mist rolling in from the west. He turned in his saddle to shout to the nearest officer, but the phenomenon was unthinkably quick. It swept over his forces in moments, and soon it covered him as well. It was too dense to see anything and impossibly cold. It felt like the mist was made up of snowflakes. Snowflakes in the middle of summer in Peona.

  When he was encompassed by the refreshing cold, an uncomfortable shiver worked its way up his spine. There was a voice. He didn’t so much hear it as he felt it scratch slowly across his mind.

  “Resilient…,” it spoke. It sounded…beautiful, though he couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman speaking. “Much more so than before.”

  Talis opened his mouth to ask who or what it was, but he knew. He didn’t know how, but a memory pulled itself to the surface. No, not a memory, but an instinct. Deep at the core of what made the king a human being was the knowledge of what was speaking to him, and he knew to be terrified.

  “You know me,” the voice said with a hint of amusement.

  Talis cleared his throat, his stomach quavering and threatening to return his lunch. “You’re called…Glory?”

  “Mmm.” A figure appeared in the mist. He stood as tall as a house; he was impossibly thin, with long, spindly arms and fingers; and he had no hair or facial features. Despite how odd and terrifying he was, there was something beautiful and pure about him. He came uncomfortably close. “That’s right.”

  Talis felt a compulsion in his heart to go to him, to follow him, to love him. But he resisted.

  Glory cocked his head. “Tell me how you’re so much stronger. Your people broke easily before.”

  Talis could barely focus on the words Glory was saying. His head swam and he felt like he might pass out. He reached down and grabbed his sword, unsheathing it and pointing it at the monster. It was an ornamental weapon, but he could still make threats with it. He thought about speaking, but he knew he’d vomit if he tried.

  “Interesting.”

  His officers arrived and rode up to the pair. They formed a full circle around the king and drew their weapons as well. A pang of relief flew through Talis until he looked at his people. They, and their mounts, were colorless and completely still. They all stared at Talis blankly with their weapons drawn and pointed his direction. If Glory had had a mouth, Talis imagined he would have been smiling.

  “Do you still resist?” He reached up with his long tendril-like fingers, and they stroked Talis’s cheek. They were cold. It felt nice.

  He looked at Glory’s blank face. Fear froze him. He wanted to run so badly, but he knew he’d be killed. His heart told him to give in. This beautiful being was offering him salvation. He could live if he would just give in. He’d come here for war, but he really didn’t want a fight. He just wanted to go home, see his people again, and do good work. He let go and let Glory.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Fierd stood in the middle of the snowy field breathing hard. He was too fucking hot. He raised his arms, palms facing upward, and looked to the sky.

  “Cool moss. Just think about cool moss. Calm down,” he told himself.

  It took a moment, but he began to relax. He could feel the snowflakes settling on his face once again, the moisture collecting in his thick beard and tickling his chin. The scent of the crisp, sunny morning finally returned to him, followed quickly by the tang of blood. With one last long breath, he opened his eyes and relaxed his arms. The heat was gone again, hopefully for a long time.

  He moved over to his last kill and wrenched his hatchet from the man’s skull. Nine men now littered the once-pure snow, their blood tinting everything a sickening pink. He continued collecting his throwing knives and looted each corpse for anything of value. Some men had purses with a fair amount of plats, one had a nice sack in particularly good condition, and another had an entire sleeve of salted venison that would come in handy. The less hunting he had to do, the faster he could journey south.

  He hoped he could find work down there. After all, every town could use a handyman. Horses needed shoes, carpentry needed repairs, metal needed work. Every place had enemies too, but hopefully that wasn’t the only work he’d be fit for. He was sick of killing. Every bloody pocket he searched only made him sicker.

  Once the bodies in the field had been looted, he moved on to his main prize—the large cart the bandits had been leading. The yoke had gotten busted up a bit during the fight, but the two horses hadn’t run. If he could keep the wood from falling apart, he could ride down. That’d certainly be a lot nicer than walking. Hopefully something in the cart could be used to fix the woodwork.

  Fierd pulled himself into the cart and inspected the various jars and crates inside. Most of them held that useless shiny junk that bandits always loved. Candlesticks, urns, and dinnerware—all made of weak metals like gold and silver. They looked pretty enough, but only the recklessly wealthy had any demand for them. There wasn’t anything he could actually use like rope or weapons. As he moved further into the cart, he heard a sharp gasp from the back-left corner. His hatchets were out in the blink of an eye and he readied himself for whoever might be hiding there. As his eyes adjusted, he saw it was a young girl whose hands were clasped over her mouth. He stepped backward out of the cart.

  “Out!”

  The girl crept from the cart and looked at him. She couldn’t have been older than eight. She had dirty blond hair and stunning blue eyes, and she’d soiled her tattered white dress.

  “Speak,” Fierd demanded. She tilted her head in confusion, her eyes wide, quivering. “Words, girl. Make some words at me.” Fierd moved his mouth around in various shapes, enunciating the sounds of random letters.

  She gave a nervous smile and said, “H-hello.”

  Fierd sheathed his weapons and relaxed. “Good. Last thing I needed to see was another Rasend. It’s always harder when it’s a wee one. What in Hejira are you doing out here?”

  The girl had a hard time looking him in the eye. “Those men took me,” she muttered. “They’ve been carting me around a long time.”

  Looked like Juris out kidnapping. “They at least leave your family be when they took you?”

  “My mom wasn’t around. I was playing outside the city walls and they grabbed me.” Her head sank. “My friend Brint tried to chase them off with his wood sword, but I saw them kill him.” She began to sniffle.

  “Whoa, whoa, now. Don’t start cryin’ on me.” Fierd sank to one knee. “You said city walls. What city?”

  She managed to slow her tears but still sounded distracted. “Ildia.”

  “Ildia? That’s a far ways south from here, isn’t it? You really did ride a long time.”

  The girl looked around. “It’s still snowing here, so yeah, this must be far north from home.”


  “Think anyone’s going to come looking for you?” Fierd asked. “Should we wait somewhere for them to come get you?”

  “People are probably looking, but not this far. My mama’s a big deal in the Directorate, so I’m sure she sent people to find me.”

  “What’s a Directorate?”

  Her head lolled, either bored of the topic or exhausted. Most likely both. “It’s our government people.”

  “Hmm.” Fierd stood back up and scratched his beard in thought. “How about we make a deal,” Fierd said. “I’ll get you home if you can have your mom help a new guy settle into town. Lookin’ for a fresh start, and someone as dainty as you sure didn’t come from too violent a place.”

  The girl scowled at him through her fatigue. “I’m not dainty. I get into adventures all the time.”

  Fierd chuckled. “You sure do. This proves it.” He clapped his hands and glanced southward before looking back at the girl. “Well? What do you think?”

  She sat on the edge of the cart bed. “I bet she’d help if you actually got me home. I don’t think I could make it on my own.”

  “It’s a deal then.” Fierd put on his biggest, dumbest smile. “Ready to go?”

  “Um…” The girl was looking down at herself. She lifted her bare feet up in the air.

  Fierd grunted in acknowledgment. “Hold on a minute.” He took a small knife out of a holster on his chest and set off for the nearest dead bandit. He disrobed the corpse and looked at the furs he had to work with. He hemmed the coat and overcoat to better fit the young girl. Some of the dead men wore heavy boots, but most wore wrapped furs. Fierd took a pair of boots, hacked them down to fit an eight-year-old, and wrapped furs around any holes in the makeshift shoe. It looked ugly as shit, but it should work just fine. “How about a hat?” he called to her. “You need a hat?”

  “Please? Something that covers my ears would be great.”

  “Reckon all these hats will do that. Your head’s much smaller than any of the folks here.” He swiped a hat that didn’t have a hatchet slash and blood all over it and brought all of the items to her. “There you go. Here’s some extra twine from the fat one over there if you need to tie anything tighter.”